


Rowaelin AU!

by sarah_bae_maas



Category: MAAS Sarah J. - Works, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: rowaelin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:34:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22018708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_bae_maas/pseuds/sarah_bae_maas
Summary: Maeve never lived, but Rowan and Aelin would still always have met somehow.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn
Comments: 36
Kudos: 186





	1. Chapter 1

“Dorian, as nice as this was, you need to leave.” Aelin smirked at the bare body next to hers, admiring prince.

Dorian reached a hand over, smoothing it down her body and around dangerous places. “Of all the things I could do, why would I do that – Ah! _Fuck.”_ He pulled his hand back, and held it to his chest as it burned. Aelin’s eyes widened, horrified at what she’d done. Before she could apologise for losing control of her magic once again, Dorian huffed and near-fled from the room, slamming the door in his wake. She didn’t even have a chance to apologise to her friend.

She was lucky her room was on the opposite of the castle to her parents, otherwise she’d fear they’d hear her escapades with the prince of Adarlan.

Maybe burning Dorian was a blessing in disguise. She did need to get some sleep – some fancy diplomats from Wendlyn, including some warrior that had been hired to train her, were arriving in the morning. She didn’t know if it would help at all, but she figured it couldn’t hurt. Even at twenty-one, her fire burned in uncontrollable ways. She thought maybe as she aged it might settle down, that somehow she’d magically be able to control it better, but it still flared up at the worst possible times. Like when Dorian tried to touch her. Luckily he was just a bit of fun, or this would be a serious problem.

She sighed, eager for tomorrow but dreading the likely-awful fae that would be her maker for the next few months. She decided that sleep would likely evade her the entire night, so she may as well find something to do with her time.

The halls were silent as she crept through them, her fae senses letting her know what ways to avoid so that she didn’t run into anyone else. Her body, tall and languid, thrived when in her fae form. Her human side was so erased that she’d fooled even the oldest of fae into thinking this was her who she really was.

Although only walking, a bead of sweat started to roll down her back. The air was dry as can be as a sweltering summer rolled in, the earth smelling of dead grass and dust. The back alleys she took to get to her favourite pub forwent pavement and let long-cemented clay guide her feet. The stone homes that lined the alleys were cool to touch, and she let them cool her fingers as she walked to her place.

Shady’s had been there longer than she’d been alive, and had been passed down through the same family like it was a royal crown. Not bustling, but not meagre, it was the perfect place to lose yourself. It also helped that it was smack-bang in the middle of a precinct the wealthy usually avoided. Dorian, for example, would never sully his fine shoes by walking on this dirt. Ha! What prisses. Anyone to scared to walk to Shady’s didn’t deserve it.

A little bell dinged as she entered, but no one looked up at her entrance. She had a hood over her head, or waist-length blonde hair braided back and hidden. Not many people were here at such an hour, only those who really wanted to forget themselves. Aelin ordered a pint and sat at her usual seat, scratching at the table.

_Tomorrow will be fine. You can handle some old fae. You can do this! You’ve trained your whole life for this moment! Even if you can’t get grip on this, you’ll still be a Galathynius. Terrasen is your home. They’d never make you leave._

No matter what she told herself, she still felt butterflies roaring in her stomach. It wasn’t so much that she was nervous to meet her alleged mentor, but what would happen if the bastard couldn’t fix her.

It had been only a month ago that she and Aedion had overheard her parents discussing her fate if they couldn’t get her flames under control. Aelin could hear the love they felt for her in their voices, but it didn’t seem to matter as they considered shipping her off to Wendlyn, alone, until she was better. How could they suggest separating her from her family, from her life? Aelin could admit maybe there was someone in the Whitethorn lot who could teach her, but at what cost? To Aelin, spending potentially years away from those she loved simply wasn’t worth it.

Since then, her parents had pulled her aside and told her they were bringing someone to her, but Aelin knew exactly what that meant. This was her chance, and if she fucked it up, she’d be on the next ship out of there.

“You look awfully sad for someone so pretty. Maybe a drink will cheer you up?”

Aelin looked up at the low voice, surprised to see another fae. Although Terrasen was teeming with her kin, Shady’s wasn’t somewhere they frequented. He was tall, alarmingly so, and built like a castle. His skin was bronze and littered with scars, his dark hair pulled back in a messy bun. He was attractive – in the same way sin was.

“I’ve already got one.” Aelin pointed to the half-empty glass in front of her, her answer making the stranger smirk.

He leant in to speak again, but a male at the next table stopped him. “Give it a rest, Lorcan. She’s not interested, and you’re starting to look pathetic.” His voice was deep, the lilt to it making the butterflies in her stomach rest. He had a cloak on, an emerald so dark it was nearly black, and his hair was a neat and short silver, but slightly longer on the top. His skin was creamy but loved by the sun, and his eyes were a startling green. Although sitting, he clearly had some height behind him too, but unlike his friend he was not a castle; he was a palace. Elegant.

“She can answer for herself, stop being so sour,” the man, Lorcan, said.

Aelin was looking at the sitting man as she answered. “Your friend is right, I’m not interested.” She peeked a glance at him, and he smiled.

“Fair enough. And I’m going to consider that my cue.” Lorcan sauntered off to the corner and up the dingy stairs that led to the few rooms Shady’s hired out – usually by the hour.

Feeling intrigued and full of liquid courage, Aelin decided to sit at the table of the elegant fae. He barely glanced at her as she did. She rested her hand on her fist, squinting at him.

“What brings you to Orynth?” she asked.

“I’ve been to most corners of the world, yet Terrasen remained unexplored. The capital seemed like a good place to start.” He took a deep gulp of his drink, his fingers dotted with tattoos written in the old fae language.

Aelin, being a pervert, decided to breath deep, wanting to inhale the scent of the man in front of her. She frowned, the pine and snow from Terrasen too strong to get a read on him, despite winter being long gone.

“Who is your companion?”

“The brute that just left?” Finally, a small smile on those lips. “He’s like a brother. A very annoying, overprotective brother that won’t stop hitting on any woman with a pulse. I don’t imagine you came here to be seduced.”

“It’s not usually on my list of weekday activities. There are plenty of reasons I come here, although I’ll admit love isn’t one of them.”

A laughed lowly, the sound like the rumble of a dragon before it takes flight. “You must be young, talking about love as if it’s real.”

“You must be either old or bitter to believe it’s not. Or just very unlucky.” Must be bitter, there’s no way a male that looked like this had trouble finding women to warm his bed.

“Hm. Maybe.” His drink was empty, but he didn’t move from the table. “You been here your whole life?”

“I’ve been to every country on this damned continent, but this is home, always will be. I have no desire to leave. You make me think you’ve never been anywhere that’s made you want to stay.” She didn’t know what made her say it, but she could somehow feel the truth in her words. He looked at her, his eyes saying _how do you know me so well, yet not at all._

“Be careful, soon you’ll know my most intimate secrets,” he playfully warned, a spark lighting his eyes.

“How deep can I go before you’ll stop me?”

“I don’t know, shall we see?”

Aelin grinned at the challenge. “Parents?”

“Dead since I was a child. Next.”

“No siblings then.”

“Took them nearly a thousand years just to have me. You?”

“Destroyed my mother’s uterus. What’s your profession?”

“Soldier, mostly blacksmith. If I were to guess, I’d say you were a handmaiden.”

“Pianist. I play every week at the grand theatre, if I had my way it would be every day. Favourite place you’ve been?”

“To war.”

“How incredibly savage.” She leant closer to him. “There hasn’t been a war in Terrasen for hundreds of years, won’t you get bored being here?”

“Lorcan has forced me to rest, said it’s best for my mental state; I couldn’t disagree more.”

“Do you have a second form?”

“Hawk.”

“What does it feel like to fly?”

He paused, considering his answer. His head tilted to the side, a strand of hair falling onto his face. Aelin resisted the urge to push it back. “Freedom, in its purest form. In the sky, there is everything and nothing all at once. No one to answer to but the wind.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Unfortunately.” He looked at her keenly. “You ever have your heart broken, since you’re such the optimist?”

“I’ve never cared for someone enough to have them hurt me.”

“You’ve been with a human tonight; I can still smell him on you.” From any other mouth, the words would have made her cringe, and then run off to tell Elide so they could laugh together. Instead, they sent a shiver down her spine. Dorian had been forgotten the moment she’d laid eyes on the male in front of her. 

“Something tells me you don’t care.”

____

He couldn’t take her to his room since Lorcan was there, so he held her against a wall in a closet. His hands were under her thighs as she wrapped her legs around him, setting her alight. It took every spare thought to keep her fire under control as he kissed her, his tongue an artist as it painted her lips, neck, chest. She moaned as one of his hands wandered up the back of her shirt, her cloak long since dropped to the floor with his.

“You know this place better than me,” he said between kisses. “How likely are we to get caught?”

Aelin growled in response, summoning him closer. His shirt, so pristine for a blacksmith, was in her way. In her haste and forgetting her own strength, she tore it in two, leaving it in shreds in the floor. It only spurred him on, and he turned them around so he could sit her on a bench.

The sex wasn’t graceful, but by the Gods was it good. He had her clothes off in minutes, and she had never felt so aroused in her life. It was like every nerve she had was being played by his magic; like she was the piano and he was the master musician. It was quick, his tempo perfect to hit the exact spot it needed to every time, but he also had a stamina unseen in the human boys she had been with. He was a man; a full-blooded fae male that was biologically engineered to make her moan so hard she forgot her own name. At one point, when the tips of her hair had started to curl with flames, she nearly shoved him away mid-thrust. But as he looked at her fire unfazed, he simply doused them with a pinch of his own magic. Knowing she could truly let loose, she gave all that she had to him.

And by the Gods it was the best she’d ever had.

They were panting on the floor of a broom closet, him big enough that he had to prop his knees up. She was curled into his side, leaving thank you kisses alongside his body. He was puffed, and let out an airy laugh. “You should stop, or I’ll have to take you again.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to go for round, what was it? Six?” To let him know, if it wasn’t already obvious, that she was joking, she left an open mouth kiss to each of his abs. He was the best thing she had ever tasted.

Aelin looked up to the window the size of a plate and groaned. The sky was starting to lighten, and soon the palace would be awake and she’d have to meet the Wendlyn convoy sent by the Whitethorns. “But you’re right. I have to go.”

She stood up, and trying not to step on him, redressed. He eventually did the same, but not after admiring her body greedily.

“Last question, will I see you again?” she asked, not hopeful. Shady’s attracted transients.

“I’m staying here for the next week at the least. Do with that what you will.”

She grinned, kissing him once more before running away from the pub, drunker than any alcohol could make her. It wasn’t until she was back in her room that she remembered she hadn’t asked him the most important question of all – his name.

___

“Elide, I’m serious. It was mind blowing. Like, I could have set that building on literal fire. I nearly did at one stage!” Aelin whispered furiously as she sped-walked to the main hall. She was late, as per usual, but at least she had Elide at her side. It wouldn’t be so awkward with her there.

“Please, _please_ stop talking.” And Aedion was there too, and in genuine pain from their conversation.

“Where can I get a man like that? You mentioned he had a brother? I’ll pay you to take me with you tonight.”

“Won’t it seem desperate if I go to find him less than a day after I left him? And I think that’s prostitution.”

“Aelin I do so much for you. The least you can do in return is help me get dicked down to the nth degree.”

“I’m going to impale myself on my sword.”

“ _Shut up, Aedion!”_ Elide and Aelin said simultaneously, before giggling to themselves.

She nearly tripped on her gown, the green organza ruffles on her dress a pain in the ass to walk in. She could also feel her crown starting to tip off her head, but Elide quickly grabbed it and pinned it back before it could. The sight of the three of them running towards the hall doors made the sentries guarding it laugh as they put their fingers to their lips, silently shushing them.

“They’re all in there, Princess, they’re just waiting for you.”

Aelin put a fake smile on her face, dreading who she’d find waiting behind that door. She stood herself in front of it, Elide to her right and Aedion to her left. She smoothed down the front of her dress, making sure everything was perfect to give the best, first royal impression she could. She had to impress the old fae that was to train her, lest she be sent to Wendlyn. Her hair was fine, her crown straight. Her dress was fitted in all the right areas but flared out to give the impression of modesty. Her favourite jewels were on, and her shoes – oh fuck, she’d forgotten to put her shoes on.

The sentries opened the door, not giving her a chance to panic.

“Introducing, the crown princess Aelin accompanied by her destined bloodsworn, Prince Aedion Ashryver, and handmaiden Lady Elide Lochan.” The booming voice welcomed her as she walked through the double doors, the people in the room dropping to their knees to meet her. The walls were lined with familiar and unfamiliar faces. All but her parents, sitting on their thrones, and one other stayed standing. A male, tall with silver hair, eyes the colour of evergreens. He was standing on the steps leading to the thrones, clad in armour and navy and black fabrics, clothing fine enough for a king.

Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck_.

“Princess Aelin, might I please introduce Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle, your new mentor.”


	2. Chapter 2

This was the worst possible thing that could have happened. 

Rowan stood beside the king and queen, completely taken aback by the sight of the princess. When Rowan had gotten roaring drunk the night before and decided to sleep with a seemingly perfect stranger, he could never have imagined that the woman he'd bedded would be the one standing before him now. She was exquisite, and even through the haze of his hangover he knew her to be beautiful. 

And to be a colossal mistake. 

He was just glad Lorcan wasn't here to witness this embarrassment; he would never live it down. 

"Princess Aelin, might I please introduce Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle, your new mentor."

Either she didn't recognise him, or she hid her expression perfectly. She had the snake smile of any royal plastered on her face, a unique expression in a humble court. The slight tilt of her lips was acknowledging, but nothing else. 

"He comes to highly recommended my dear," her father, King Rhoe, said, beaming at his daughter. "Your Uncle Gavriel was the one who told us he would be perfect." 

Rowan considered fleeing so that he didn't have to face the wrath of Gavriel if he ever discovered Rowan bedded his niece. Rowan had been saddened that he wouldn't see the male until Gavriel returned from assignment, now he was grateful. He had the chance to wash the scent of the princess off before anyone could notice he was slathered with her. 

"He has been a teacher for Doranelle for over a century; he trains their army and is a leading commander." 

Aelin's smile tightened, although Rowan didn't think anyone would be able to notice. 

"And why would such a high ranking commander come to Orynth to help train me?" Her voice was melodic, and oh so incredibly fake. Did no one else see it? 

Rowan looked over the courtiers gathered. He knew Terrasen was a prosperous kingdom, and it showed in their nobility. It was always obvious when wealth and health had been faked, but Orynth really was a dream for its inhabitants. Inhabitants who looked at their princess with concern - not for her, but for themselves. They were afraid. 

Interesting. 

"Aelin, please," Queen Evalin's voice was taught. "This could help you, don't you understand? We're running out of options, and after-"

"What your mother means to say, my dear, is that Prince Rowan is the best of the best, and we're thrilled to have him here with you. We believe that you could grow so much from this." King Rhoe turned to Rowan, a friendly smile on his face. "You have my full trust with my daughter." 

Rowan tried to smile back, as if he hadn’t already devoured the woman he’d sworn to help. How he was going to fix this mess, he didn’t know, but one thing was for sure. He could not, under any circumstances, be involved with the princess. 

___

Rowan was wrapping his hands as he waited for Princess Aelin. At first, there was expected to be an audience to their training. He dismissed them thoroughly, or, in the words of Lorcan, _aggressively_. Now, his commanding officer was the only one in the room, and he was grinning like a banshee. 

"This is the best thing to happen to me all day."

"Shut the fuck up, Lorcan."

"I take you here for a break. I give you lots of space to be a moody little shit, and just when it's looking like you might smile again, you have your first one-night stand with the worst possible person."

"You tried to fuck her too."

"Yes, but I was unsuccessful." 

Before they could continue bickering, the door to the side of the courtyard opened. They were in a square, outdoor space lined with columns. Behind them were mazes of paths, and high hedges to keep out wandering eyes. It would be an ideal space for physical training, which is what Rowan would start with. If the previous night was anything to go by, she had little control. She could use some refinement - her movement was too wild. Even in the throne room, she was practically vibrating. 

The princess walked in with two men at her helm. One man was a brunette human, two swords strapped to his back. The other was a fae male, and Rowan would recognise him anywhere. It was Gavriel's boy, the one that made him leave Doranelle all those years ago. Rowan didn't begrudge him that - Gavriel was head over heels with his woman when they discovered the pregnancy. And as forgiving as the Ashryver's tend to be, they could be archaic in the worst ways. 

"Princess, I have requested that there be no audience for our training sessions," Rowan said, voice as impassive as he could make it. He could feel his heart starting to beat faster.

"This is Aedion and Ren, they insist on following me wherever I go." She smiled, taking a step towards him. "They're very needy."

She was talking to him in the same voice she'd used last night, the kind of voice that made you think she was divulging her deepest secrets. It was as if she thought this whole situation was humorous. 

Rowan would soon let her know that it was not. 

"Prince Aedion, Ren." Rowan nodded at them. "I do not need babysitters, I have been training the most ruthless fae since before you were even a thought in your parent's mind. Lorcan, if you could escort them away while I train the princess." 

"That's not happening," Ren smirked. “You may have come highly praised by Gavriel, but you are still a stranger.”

Aedion looked thoughtful. He tilted his head, and Rowan ignored the princess and her guard to take him in. 

Gavriel had clearly raised the boy in his image. Everything about him - his defined muscles, scars on his body, posture - spoke of a well-trained soldier. He observed Rowan the way that Rowan looked over him, and he seemed displeased with what he saw. That, or he had quite the poker face. 

“I’ve heard stories of you and him,” Aedion swept his hand in the direction of Lorcan, “my entire life. You could be the worst thing that has ever stepped foot into this court if you wanted to be. I know the best things about you, but I’m also well aware of the shittest. I suspect the only reason you are held in such high regard is because, so far, you have been on the same side as us. For only my trust in my father, I’ll leave you with her.” Aedion stepped around the princess, his gaze feral as he approached Rowan. “But if you cross her, be warned that it will be a signature on your death warrant.” 

With that, the boy turned and stormed away, Ren following him after a quick scowl in their direction. As soon as they were out the door, Lorcan opened his big fat mouth with a rapturous laugh. “The unwarranted confidence on that boy is astounding. He couldn’t step an inch in our direction before he’d be dead.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Leave, Lorcan.”

He looked at him aghast. “Why?”

“I told you, no babysitters. Piss off.”

Lorcan bowed theatrically to Rowan and winked at the princess before escorting himself out, leaving Rowan alone, finally, with _her_.

She wore loose clothes that would help her body breathe in the heat. Her shirt was short sleeved and white, and dipped just to the top of her chest, hinting at what may lie beneath. A brown belt was at her waist, a few knives casually hanging from it. Her hair was up in a tight bun on her head, making her now-human face longer and sharper. This must be her animal form - how curious. A light breeze blew through, and he could still smell his scent on her. Any fae who came across them both and was worth their weight would know what had transpired between Rowan and the woman before him. 

He was unsure of what to say now that they were alone.

“So, this was… unexpected,” she breathed, her face finally showing something other than indifference. “When I was told they were shipping someone in to train me, I expected some old bastard.”

Rowan swallowed hard. “I can assure you Princess, I am the best.”

_“Aelin_ , please call me by my name.”

He ignored her plight. “Princess, stand with your legs shoulder width apart. I want to see what you can do.”

___

His offer had sounded sexy at first, but Aelin soon found out that he was gruelling. There was no chit-chat, certainly no flirting, and he pushed her to her limits. He handed her weapon after weapon and kicked her ass every time, assessing her skills in each. In hand to hand combat, her favourite, he’d had her on her back barely able to breathe in seconds. It was a far cry from the night before, when she had been breathless for very different reasons. Any time she tried to speak, he would invent some new way to torture her. More surprisingly, every time her flames rose to the surface of her skin and started to burn, she would feel a blanket of magic smother it. 

“I don’t understand,” she said five hours into their session. “Why can’t I use my magic?”

He clicked his tongue. “The magic will come, but right now, I want to see what else you can do.” 

She gritted her teeth and continued, pushing through the burning pain in her limbs. It was another forty minutes before Rowan finally called it. He looked barely affected while she was covered in sweat and barely able to breathe. 

“An ice bath will help with the pain. I’ll see you at the same time tomorrow. At the behest of your parents, I’ve placed wards on your room so that your fire might be contained in the event of an accident. They won’t stop anything if I’m not there, but they’ll slow it down.” 

“When did you go in my room?” she heaved, her knees and hands shaking. Blisters littered her hands, and if she didn’t think it would make her look weak, she’d run to the healers and have them soothe them. 

“I did it from your balcony yesterday afternoon, I was told you were out with Dorian.”

“So you’ll call him Dorian but you won’t call me Aelin? Are you punishing me for forgetting to ask you name last night.” 

Rowan was packing up the equipment they’d used, cold in his movements. Facing away from her, he said, “Gavriel may have given me a reason to come here, but it was your father who approached him, to ask if the rumours about my abilities were true. He’d heard about me from King Dorian the first, after I helped his son. That’s how I was able to get here so quickly, I came with him from Adarlan.” 

“So you’re what, friends?” 

“Some might say that.”

“Two friends for two countries.” Her lips tentatively turned up, hoping that even without her flame she could warm him.

Rowan didn’t smile back like she was expecting. He had been hard during their training, but she thought that was just because he was in instructor mode. She was still struggling to put the two Rowan’s she knew together. The one from the night before, that was playful and enticing, and the one here, who was a talking statue. 

“So, a blacksmith?” she teased, wondering why he had lied about his profession. 

“It’s a hobby. You aren’t a pianist.” 

“I really do play every week at the theatre. I’m doing a solo tomorrow, if you’d like to come and watch.” What she didn’t say if that _she_ would like him to come. She felt inexplicably drawn to him, but that could just be from a false sense of connection driven by her horniness. 

“I’ll be busy.”

“Next week, then.”

He sighed deeply, turning his face to the ceiling as he finished putting away the last sword. “Princess, last night was a mistake, one fuelled by alcohol and anonymity. It won’t happen again.” 

She scrunched up her face. “I wasn’t asking you to sneak into my room and fuck me, I was asking if you’d like to see me play since we’ll be spending so much time together. We may as well get to know each other.”

“I’m not interested in knowing you. You’re a job. An obligation. I’m here as a favour to an old friend, and because your parents think you’re an incompetent heir who is more likely to burn her kingdom down than rule it.” 

Aelin flinched at the words, knowing they were true. Not just his total lack of interest, which by now was starkly apparent, but also why her parents had brought him here. She saw it every time they looked at her, the love, but also the fear that she would destroy them all. Her eyes burned, and she blinked hard. Gods, what a pathetic picture she must have painted. 

“Noted.” Aelin pressed her lips together and got up, striding off. She made sure her back was straight and shoulders were up, feigning so he didn’t know how much his words affected her. With her hand on the doorknob, she asked one last question before she would sequester herself away. “What kind of magic do you have anyway?”

“You may be fire, but I’m all water and air - everything needed to obliterate you.” 

As soon as she was out of his sight, she violently vomited. 


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m going to murder him.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’ll wait until training is over; he’ll be at his most exhausted and he’ll never see it coming.”

“He will see it coming. Not that it matters, we don’t murder our friends.”

“ _Elide_! He is not my friend!”

“He’s mine, I actually quite like him.”

“That’s because he hasn’t been kicking your ass every day for the last week.”

“Well get good enough that you can kick his ass back, problem solved.”

____

Lorcan hadn’t explored much of the castle. He mostly kept to himself, a habit long engrained in him since childhood. Besides, he didn’t really feel like interacting with pointy nosed courtesans and their offspring. He walked around at night, but mostly to wayward taverns with wayward women, Rowan sulking at his side. The male was as annoying as ever, if not more so. Aelin always left him in a grump, and it was near insufferable. Oh no! How hard it must be on the poor baby to want one of the most powerful women to ever have lived! And for her to lust after him so badly any fae with have a brain cell could smell it! They were lucky Gavriel wasn’t here, or he’d have Rowan removed from court. 

And where Rowan went, unfortunately Lorcan followed.

Lorcan took a rare moment to himself in the library. It was late at night, the clicking of cicadas a lullaby as he listened to them from the window. He had been eavesdropping on the princess and Gavriel’s son, but they were woefully boring. He had decided to stay once they left, kicking off his shoes and settling in next to a window so high and grand that all of Orynth was on display – much like the palaces you’d find in Doranelle. He didn’t want to read, he just wanted a break.

He was tired. So, so tired.

The sound of light footsteps interrupted him, and he stood up, readying himself to dodge them if need be. His ears pricked, and he walked until he could follow the sound, and the person, as they walked between aisles. He was as quiet as a shadow and peeked in the gap in the shelves to spy on his intruder.

It was a fair woman, probably in her mid-twenties, dark hair tied up messily on her head. She was wearing a red silk robe, half undone as she flurried through the shelves, a navy nightgown peeking through. He had on fur slippers, and she was scanning the shelves and picking up indiscernible titles. Lorcan had never seen her before, but she matched the description Rowan gave for the princess’s closet friend – Elide. This mightn’t be her, but it sure seemed like it.

Lorcan did know one thing as he watched her.

His heart, the moment he set eyes on her, started to beat erratically, and his soul begged to be near her. It was if a God had picked the string of his essence, and wrapped it around this woman, tying him to her. It was a feeling he’d never had before, and wouldn’t ever have again.

Lorcan knew that this woman, whoever she was, was his mate.

___

Elide balked at the man in front of her, stunned by his proposition. There she had been, minding her own damn business, when out of nowhere some sentry had begged her to take him to bed with her. She was sure he meant to be seductive, but she was a bloody lady and would be treated as such.

She shooed him and his hair that was way too blonde away, watching him flee into the morning sun as she continued her walk to the market. Usually she did this every morning with Aelin, but her friend had been too preoccupied lately to come. Elide wasn’t mad, she understood that Aelin’s training was the priority, she was just lonely. She had Ren and Aedion, but both were so busy that she barely saw them either. She just had be content on her lonesome.

She wove through the streets until she made it to the market, where she started moseying along. Baffled by the interaction with the sentry, she let herself be distracted by things she wouldn’t normally be. The flowers particularly caught her eye, but she had to regrettably leave them where they were. She had little personal funds, using most of her money to travel the continent, and she had to live frugally if she were to see as much of this world as she wanted to. All she bought were the small list of items given to her by various palace stuff – herbs, fresh bread, candles, and so on. Nothing for herself, not even the lovely orchids she wanted.

The market smelt like sugar and fresh bread, loose stones jutting into her feet even with her shoes on. She felt odd the more she walked; the back of her neck tingled, and she found herself reaching for it to see if a bug was trying to make a home there. There was nothing, and when she turned all she saw were people milling around as she was. Maybe she was getting sick, she did have a restless night’s sleep – not even her walk to the library and enthusiastic browsing was enough to wear her out. There was something in her blood though that sang, a message saying no physical ailment was what was making her feel this way.

She quickened her pace, but the feeling didn’t subside. Deciding she could forego the rest of her items until she had company, she decided to walk in the direction of the castle. She went a round-about way, suddenly paranoid that she was being followed. But that was ludicrous, surely.

She was in such a rush, that she slammed her basket into a building as she rounded its corner. Saying a word that would make her mother balk, she leant down to pick everything up when a hand joined hers. Her body jolted and she flinched back, looking into dark eyes that were level with her own.

It was a man; his hair, brown and shoulder length, was tucked behind gently curved ears. His face showed the hint of scars, but all were faded with time. His hand, which has just grazed her own, was somehow both rough and incredibly soft. He was dressed in rich silks, and if Elide was to guess, she’d say he wasn’t from Terrasen.

“You dropped this,” he said, gently placing her items into her basket.

“Um, yes, I did.” She noted his beauty, thinking that he couldn’t possibly be real. Maybe she’d also bumped her head and was hallucinating.

“Are you alright? You look dazed, my lady.”

 _My lady_. Be still her beating heart.

“I’m fine, just-” she looked around her, there were a few vendors that had seen her tumble and were snickering, but otherwise no sign of anything nefarious. “Just frazzled.”

“Ah, well we can’t have a frazzled woman exerting herself.” He picked up the basket for her and offered his arm to help her stand. She squeaked as realised his height. He towered over her, his figure not looming but instead like a sea wall – sturdy in an age of constant thrashing.

She gladly took his arm, thrilled by the new turn of events.

“May I escort you somewhere?”

She swallowed, trying not to seem to eager or to burst out _you may escort me to your bedroom please and thank you._ “The castle, if you’d like. And my name is Elide. Elide Lochan. Elide Lochan of Perranth.”

He tilted his head, his lips hinting at a smile. “I’m actually staying there myself, Elide Lochan of Perranth, what are the chances that we’ve never met?”

She clicked her tongue. “You are? Why?”

“Yes, I’m the, uh, advisor to Prince Rowan Whitethorn.”

“Oh, you must be Lorcan! I’m Aelin’s handmaiden, I can’t believe we’ve never ran into each other.” Elide tightened her hands around his forearm as he guided them to the castle, her heavy basket being effortlessly held in his other. When Aelin had described Lorcan, she had envisioned a brute of man. Rather, she had never seen one so courteous in her life. “Advising Rowan, what does that entail?” she asked, curious as to how she hadn’t seen him at dinner or with Rowan when she’d accompanied Aelin to her training.

“Rowan’s life can be fraught in his profession; my job is to help wade him through any rough waters he might encounter. I’ve been doing it for decades.”

“Did you meet as children?”

“No,” he said, his voice making her spine shiver. “I’m a couple hundred years older than Rowan. We met when he was about forty.”

If Rowan was around the three hundred Aelin claimed him to be, that would make Lorcan, what? Five hundred?

A fae of that age…

Would have lots of experience, know exactly where everything with the female body was.

“Are you also royal?”

Lorcan looked down at her, his head casting a shadow over her face. “I – Yes, I am.”

“Is that how you met Rowan, you ran in the same circles?” 

Lorcan paused, looking tentative. “Yes, of course I did. My mother was… my mother was Rowan’s tutor. She was a prestigious scholar.”

Elide noticed his change in tense. “Was?”

“She faded with my father. She was nearly a thousand years old and had me towards the end of her life.”

Elide tilted her head. “But if Rowan is two hundred years younger than you, and she had you at the end of her life, how could she have been his tutor?”

Lorcan coughed. “Well… when you’re fae with such a long life, the last two hundred really is the end. Like a human in their eighties.”

Elide conceded, that made sense.

They chatted idly as they walked, Elide hanging onto his every word as he escorted her back to her chambers. They drew eyes as they walked through the halls of the castle, but Elide barely spared them a thought as she engaged with Lorcan. His well-spoken-ness impressed her as much as his biceps, and she found herself doing what she did whenever a nice, attractive male made eye contact with her.

She made very inappropriate and convoluted fantasies up about them in her mind.

He walked with her throughout the castle, the pricky feeling from the market fully disappeared. She dropped off all the items she had bought, and somehow managed to not jump Lorcan’s bones. They only stopped as the bells rang noon, and Lorcan regretfully had to excuse himself to join Rowan.

“I wish I could stay longer, but Rowan is testy at the best of times.” He glanced away anxiously, biting his lip.

Oh Gods, she also wanted to bite his lip.

“That’s fine, I’m sure I can manage the rest of the day without you.” Her faux confidence was spurred by trying to give him the impression that she was a strong, independent woman. Which she was, she just needed him to definitely know that.

He bowed to her slightly, his smile returning. “Until I see you again, Lady Elide.”

He turned and walked away. He was nearly out of hearing distance when Elide yelled, “I leave for the market at eight!” She had no idea if he’d even garner that she was inviting him to join her, but either way, she knew she’d see him again. 


	4. Chapter 4

Aelin could feel every muscle in her body as she lay in bed groaning. She couldn’t even appreciate the books tempting her on her nightstand, she was too sore to pick them up and hold the behemoth hardbacks. She thought after over a fortnight of non-stop training her body would be more accustomed now, especially since she was quite fit even before she started her training with Rowan. She had spent half her life with the best soldiers her parents could offer her, but they were nothing compared to this. She genuinely didn’t know how she was going to get out of bed to meet Rowan.

“Good morning,” Elide chirped as she strode in Aelin’s room, slamming the large doors behind her. Elide lived in the next room over, and like Aelin, her room was more of a self-sustained apartment than anything else. Both had their beds, sure, but also bathrooms, kitchenettes, and sitting rooms. They wouldn’t have to leave their rooms at all if they didn’t desire it.

“It is not a good morning.”

“Hush. Rowan sent this with me when I went for my morning rounds.” Elide threw a piece of paper at her before going to her drawers, pulling Aelin out an outfit for the day.

_Edge of the forest. Noon._

Succinct and to the point, exactly what she’d always come to expect from him. If they were moving, maybe now he would let her use her flames. But if he was so confident in his ability to stifle her, she didn’t know why he needed to go all the way there to do it.

“How have you been, Elide? Dorian sent his regards as he left.” A knot formed in Aelin’s stomach when she thought of how she’d neglected Elide’s feelings of late.

“I had a very scandalous dream about Ren last night. But I think it’s just because I’m craving attention.”

“You could have any man you wanted.”

“And I’ve wanted many, but I want to wait for one that wants me.” Elide tossed Aelin’s clothes at her then lay down on the unoccupied side of the bed, sighing.

Aelin patted her on the arm, gritting her teeth as she got up and changed. “You can have Rowan.”

“He is rather dashing.”

“And a fantastic lover.”

“Hm, but I really don’t want my best friend’s sloppy seconds.”

“ _Elide_!”

“I’m joking, of course.”

“Perhaps Lorcan will take your eye and give you the night you deserve.”

Elide smiled, winking at Aelin. “I’m working on it.”

____

Rowan hadn’t originally planned to start Aelin with her fire today, but he wanted to get away from Lorcan. How Lorcan had the audacity to call Rowan moody after how he behaved last night, Rowan would never know. His plan was foiled when the Bastard of Doranelle had joined him fifteen minutes before Aelin was expected to show.

Rowan grunted in his direction but didn’t offer any real words. He was too focused on when Aelin might come to offer him any attention. He was moving any kindling from the immediate area, creating a makeshift clearing for them. He wanted to be nice and far away from any other people when they started testing her fire, and the trees were so close that the past autumn’s leaves had left a thick layer of debris on the ground.

“What’s the plan?” Lorcan asked, picking at his teeth and not helping at all.

“I’ll train her like we do the children. She’s learnt bad habits from her previous tutors, she’ll need to start afresh. You’ll need to leave.”

“I thought I could observe today.”

“You thought wrong. Piss off.”

Lorcan grunted, flicking something he’d recovered from his teeth at Rowan. Rowan balked at him, giving him a _what the fuck_ look.

“I’m sorry I annoyed you last night, or whatever,” Lorcan said.

“Annoyed me? _Annoyed me?_ You’ve been stealing my shit, including the royal seal my parents left me. My clothes? It hasn’t been the poor laundress that misplaced them, you just got your grubby hands on them first. Or what about the weapons my cousin had made for me? Suddenly adorned on you like you use them regularly. If you miss the finery of the homeland so much why don’t you just go back, I don’t need you here.”

“Saying you don’t need me is like saying fish don’t need water.”

“Lorcan, I will kill-”

“I’ve had them for a good reason.”

“Doubtful.”

“Can you please just let me explain?” Lorcan ran his hands over his face, and Rowan dropped the pile he was holding so he could cross his arms and stare Lorcan down.

“Go on then.”

“You’ve met Elide, yes? I know she thinks highly of you, because you weren’t a bumbling buffoon when you met her like I was. I was following her, like a complete idiot, and scared her so much she ran into a wall. She’s a lady – a verifiable lady and I’m just the male who made her slam herself into a building. When we started speaking, I panicked and told her I was a royal. I was wearing your clothes because I’d run out of mine – okay yes I stole them – and suddenly I became this whole other person.”

“That makes… no sense. Why would you be following Elide through her morning market dash. Why then lie about who you are?”

“Because she is impeccable. And I’m not good enough to be her mate.”

___

As Aelin approached the training yard, which was a very loose descriptor from the looks of it, in her fae form, she could just pick up on Rowan and Lorcan talking in hushed voices. Rowan was close to Lorcan, his hands on his shoulders, and Lorcan’s head was bowed. Rowan seemed to be giving him some sort of pep-talk, but Aelin didn’t know what.

Their heads snapped in her direction when they heard her approaching, and all their words stopped. Rowan turned away from her, and Lorcan gave her a polite smile before leaving.

“What was that about?” she asked, watching Lorcan’s retreating figure.

“None of your business. Stand over there.”

“A please wouldn’t go astray.” 

He deflected her words, starting her with physical excises to help limber up her body. Aelin started to question the location change, wondering if Rowan just wanted to punish her where no one could hear her screams.

The air was brisk, a cold breeze throbbing around them, but Aelin was grateful for its presence. She could feel herself getting hot, not just from working with Rowan but also because her magic was trying to bubble to the surface. It could feel his doing the same, and Aelin knew he wouldn’t let himself build like this if her magic wouldn’t play some role in how today went. After nearly two hours, she had her answer.

“Show me what you can do,” Rowan said.

Aelin stood in front of him, trying to get her flames to show themselves, beads of sweat starting to drip down her brow as she did. Rowan was looking at her expectantly, like he thought something should have happened by now. Aelin closed her eyes, forgetting he was there, forgetting everything was. Why was it that she could barely summon her flames when she wanted them, but if she tried to dissipate them they rampaged from her?

She inhaled and exhaled, visualising the fire breaking from her skin and spreading onto the earth, like blood from a cut. It was there, she could feel it. It was like her blood was boiling, the bubbles of her magic so close to spilling over but not quite there yet. She pushed harder, ringing in her ears starting to block everything out. She thought she could vaguely hear someone calling her name.

Her toes, hips, shoulders, ears, they were running through her like the current of a river rushing towards the mouth of the ocean.

_Princess Aelin._

Faster, harder, the bubbling waters were trying to find a way out.

_Stop._

Soon, soon they would be free. She buckled down, when they were out, she could show Rowan why they feared her, and then he could set her free.

She felt a hand belt her face, and her eyes sprang open.

“Aelin, stop this!”

Rowan was shaking her, but it was too late.

She spewed out the flames, red and blue fire leaping from her whole body and pushing outward. Grass turned to ash, the trees went up like blazing lights, flames licking up their sides and into the sky. Her body was a portrait of heat, the flames licking her like she was their most scandalous lover.

And when the world was red, her wildfire loose and uncontrolled, it suddenly stopped.

It was like a candle going out. The light was there, and then in a split second it was gone.

Aelin could hear her heart breathing, felt every breath she took. Her vision focused, and she surveyed the damage around her. Everything within thirty metres of her was destroyed, black and charred, some trees reduced to nothing but ash. The sky was dark, so much smoke and soot in the air that it was hard to tell that it was the afternoon, it looked like the sun was setting she was so blocked from its rays.

And Rowan – _Rowan_.

He was cradling his hands to his chest, his face contorted with pain. He was biting his lip so hard it was bleeding, and Aelin had never heard the noises he was making before. His hands were – oh Gods, what had she done.

“I’m – Rowan, I’m so sorry,” she rushed to him, and he took a step back from her, his eyes wide and glassy. She could feel his wrath emanating from him – wrath mixed with agony. Worst of all, she could smell his injuries – like burnt meat.

“The fires, did I put them all out?” he spat, his mouth barely able to open when he spoke. The veins on his neck were popping from his pain, and his chest was heaving.

“Yes – how – I’m sorry.” She went to him again, and this time he didn’t flinch from her. She felt her eyes sting and didn’t bother wiping away the tears that seldom fell. Guilt ripped through her like her flames did the forest, and in that moment she knew she still had a little of her magic left. “I can fix it, please let me fix this.”

She tenderly grabbed his hands, and she could tell her was holding back howls of pain. He didn’t fight her as she beheld the injuries she inflicted, and didn’t question her when she held his hands to her face. With everything she had, she summoned the drops of water magic she’d been gifted and sent it all into him. Into his hands. Into his pain. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, his skin was perfect, bare of any scars or tattoos or remnants of the flames.

Wholly new.

“How did you do that?” he whispered, looking between his hands and her.

“It’s not all destructive,” she said back, her voice even lower than his.

“You are…”

She waited for him to chew her out, to throw in the towel like all those who came before him.

“Exquisite.”

She nearly choked.

He was now gazing at his hands in wonder, and not just that, but also the charred earth. It wasn’t until now that she realised how much she’d truly destroyed, and how much he’d saved in the second she’d exploded.

He was right when he said that he could obliterate her.

“How did you save my hands?”

“I – it’s from my water. I wish I had as much of it as I did my fire.”

He slid his hands from away from hers, and she thought he was going to leave. Instead, he cradled her face in his, turning it to meet his own. “Don’t you dare feel shame at what you can do. You are magnificent. _This_ – this is magnificent.”

“I destroy everything I touch.” Her voice broke at the truth.

“And that is the fault of everyone that has come before you and tried to stifle what’s inside you.”

He swallowed, his lips parting. She moved into him, pressing her body flush against his, one of his hands moving to her hair. He angled his face down, pressing his forehead against hers. Her name was on his lips, and she was shaking. She could feel every press of the wind on her skin now, everything drained from her body.

They stood like that until they heard the hooves of the horses riding towards them, the shouts of their names as people feared she had killed them both. Rowan stepped away, and she heard her father’s voice join the herd.

Before they could hear him, he said one last thing to her. “Aelin, I’m not going anywhere.” 


End file.
